


Safe

by asongforjonsa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Political!Jon, References to past trauma, Season 8, Smut, i know this will never happen, jonsa, just let me have this okay, wishlist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 16:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18503050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/pseuds/asongforjonsa
Summary: Jon and Sansa marry to keep him safe from Daenerys's wrath.*“Do you honestly think she loves you more than she wants that throne? I’m really asking, Jon. Which do you think she wants more? Love or power?”Jon closes his eyes for a moment. He knows Daenerys is not fit to rule, he knows that she loves him. And he knows that he does not love her in return.“Power,” he says quietly, opening his eyes to stare at the floor.





	Safe

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Jonsa in forever, this idea came to me yesterday, and I just had to get it down. A girl can dream, right?

Sansa is pacing in her solar when Jon, Arya and Bran join her. Sam sits at her desk, looking every bit as weary as he feels.

Arya’s reaction had not surprised Jon- she simply told him he will always be her brother. Then she hugged him tight, and whispered that he had to do whatever Sansa thinks is best.

He clears his throat. “Sansa-”

“We have to protect you.”

Jon blinks at her as if he hasn’t heard her properly. Of all the things he expected her to say… 

“I - what?”

She strides over to him and takes his hand in hers. She squeezes gently before dropping it. “We have to protect you from her.”

Jon steps back. “You don’t need to worry about me, Sansa. I’m the one who is supposed to protect you.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, and Jon sees Arya and Sam share similar reactions. 

“Jon, you have to consider how Daenerys will take this news,” Sam says quietly. “You are the single greatest threat to her taking the throne.”

“The Night King is the greatest threat, not me,” Jon mutters.

“Fine, the greatest  _ human  _ threat. You are the legitimate heir to the Iron Throne. She will not react well,” Arya says.

Sansa and Arya stare at each other for a moment, before Arya nods and Sansa takes a deep breath.

_ Since when have they been able to communicate silently like that? _

“Jon, we need to be practical,” Sansa starts. “The only way to keep her from killing you is to demonstrate that you present no threat.”

Jon sighs. “And how do you suggest we do that?”

“We marry.”

Jon laughs. It feels rusty, foreign even. He takes in Sansa and Arya’s faces, and sees that she’s serious.

“You can’t mean it,” he mutters. 

“I can and I do,” Sansa replies with a curt nod. “Tell her that if we survive the Great War, you will stay here in the north, as the King in the north, with me as your queen.”

“You don’t think she’ll just get angry that I married someone else?” Jon adopts the same tone he had the night before the battle of the bastards, incredulous and condescending. Sansa straightens her back and fixes him with an intense glare.

“Do you honestly think she loves you more than she wants that throne? I’m really asking, Jon. Which do you think she wants more? Love or power?”

Jon closes his eyes for a moment. He knows Daenerys is not fit to rule, he knows that she loves him. And he knows that he does not love her in return.

“Power,” he says quietly, opening his eyes to stare at the floor. 

“Alright, so we agree? We’ll marry, if we survive.”

“It needs to happen before the war,” Bran suddenly interjects. “Jon and Sansa need to marry and consummate tonight.”

Sansa goes white as a sheet. “Why?"

Bran stares at her blankly. “I can’t see everything about the future, but it’s important that it happens. Before the Night King gets here.”

Jon looks at Sansa helplessly, his stomach churning and mind racing. She locks her eyes on his, studies him for just a moment, before she nods. “Fine. We’ll meet in front of the heart tree in an hour,” she says quietly.

“We can’t in front of the heart tree, out in the open,” Jon replies. “We should do it in the crypts. Anyone who sees us will think we’re just paying our respects.”

Sansa nods once more, and they split up to prepare. Jon goes to speak with Davos, and Sansa summons Brienne.

An hour later, they meet in front of Ned and Lyanna’s statues. Brienne guards the entrance.

Jon feels numb until he sees Sansa. She has changed out of her dress made of armor, into the green dress she wore the day they defeated Ramsay. Her hair is the same, as is the weary expression on her face. 

Jon’s breath catches in his chest when she smiles at him softly. She takes his arm, and they turn to face Sam. 

They’re the same words that have been said at northern weddings for a thousand years. Sansa speaks for herself, though, when asked who comes before the gods. No man will speak for her or force her hand ever again.

It’s over in an instant. Sam pronounces them husband and wife, and they hurry back into the castle before anyone can notice their absence.

Jon and Sansa walk to her chambers, the tension thick and silent between them.

Jon bolts the door behind them and turns to Sansa. She takes a deep breath, her eyes shut tight, before she removes her cloak.

“Sansa-”

She holds up her hand to stop him. “We have to, Jon. Bran said it will be important, and Bran has never been wrong.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Jon rasps, his right hand clenched in a fist. “We can lie, nobody will know-”

Sansa unties the sash around her waist and sets it on a chair. “Please don’t make this more difficult, Jon. You know- you  _ know  _ what Ramsay did-”

Jon hastens to stand in front of her, taking her face in his hands gently. “That’s why I’m saying we’ll lie. I promised I would protect you.”

She sighs and rests her forehead against his. “And you have. Now I need to protect you.”

She steps back and turns around, a silent plea for assistance. Jon unlaces her dress with shaking fingers. She steps out of the dress and turns back to face him, clad only in a simple white shift. He can see her nipples harden beneath the fabric and curses himself silently as his cock twitches.

That’s when he sees the scars. Her arms are  _ covered  _ in them. Jon clenches his hand again, his heart and head pounding in rage.

Sansa looks down at the floor, her cheeks red. “I know they look awful. I never would have been as beautiful is your dragon queen, and now-”

Jon takes her face in his hands again, tilting her head so she’ll meet his eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Sansa,” he rasps. “Nobody is as beautiful as you, not even the dragon queen.”

Sansa blinks and a tear escapes down her cheek. Jon wipes it away and places a kiss where it fell.

“We need to get this done, Jon,” she whispers. “I’ll leave my shift on, you don’t need to see the other scars.”

Jon shakes his head. “Leave it on if it makes you feel safe, Sansa. But even the ugliest scars cannot take away from how beautiful and strong and  _ brilliant  _ you are.”

She nods and kisses his cheek. “I think it will be easier for me if I’m on top. Can you- can you help me do that?”

Jon’s cock hardens but he manages to mutter, “Whatever you need.”

Sansa takes off his cloak then. They remove his clothes together, until he’s left in his smallclothes. Sansa traces the scars on his chest with her finger, her eyes filling with tears.

“You have them too.”

“I do."

She clears her throat and takes his hand, leading him to the bed. “Could you lie down?” she asks.

“We’ll need to take off our smallclothes for this,” he says quietly. Sansa slips hers off and tosses them aside, never breaking eye contact with him.

Jon takes a deep breath and unties his. He kicks them off, and stands stock still as Sansa takes him in. He’s fully aroused, and it makes his cheeks burn in shame. 

“So, I please you then?” Sansa murmurs, her cheeks pink. 

“You’re beautiful, Sansa. I would be honored to lie with you,” he replies just as quietly. 

He lies down on his back then, and holds his breath as Sansa climbs astride him. 

“Are you ready?” 

Sansa blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

Jon groans internally. “Ready, you know, prepared?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Are you wet, Sansa?” 

Her brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

Jon strokes her arm. “If you are aroused, you get wet in your… your womanly place. It will make it easier, more pleasant when my cock goes in.”

Sansa still looks confused, so he looks carefully into her eyes and asks, “May I check?”

She stares at him for a moment before nodding. Jon slips his hand under her shift slowly -  _ so  _ slowly - never taking his eyes off Sansa’s.

She gasps quietly when he makes contact with her cunt, parting her lips gently. His cock, already red and throbbing, twitches angrily. 

He strokes her nub, and lets her rub herself against his hand. He decides he could subsist entirely off of watching Sansa find pleasure - food and drink and sleep be damned, this is  _ all  _ he needs. 

She rubs herself against him, her eyes squeezed shut, until she cries out. “Oh! Jon!”

Jon presses his free hand over her mouth gently. Her eyes fly open and he grins at her. “This is supposed to be covert, remember?” he says, his tone teasing. 

Sansa smiles at him when he drops his hand. She positions herself over his cock and asks him breathlessly, “Could you put your hands on my hips?”

Jon eagerly complies. He tries to keep his eyes on Sansa’s, but the dusting of red hair covering her cunt makes it terribly difficult to focus.

“Look at me, Jon,” Sansa whispers. He tears his eyes away from her cunt and locks on her eyes as she lowers herself onto his cock.

They gasp in unison. Sansa’s eyes are full of shock, and it makes Jon’s heart ache to think this is the first time she will find love in this act instead of terror.

She swivels her hips tentatively, making him groan in response. He clutches her hips, clinging to her in a desperate attempt to keep from filling her with his seed immediately.

Sansa keeps her eyes on his as she swivels from side to side. Jon lies still, letting her use him for her pleasure. Suddenly, she leans down, taking Jon’s face in her hands.

She presses her lips against his, quick and soft. Jon feels his world  _ shift _ \- he wraps his arms around Sansa’s waist and starts to thrust up into her gently as she lies on top of him, their noses brushing against each other.

“Sansa,” Jon whispers. Her pupils are blown. She starts to grind down against him as he thrusts up. She captures his lips again, this time opening up so he can lick inside her mouth.

He sits up abruptly and pulls her into his lap. Sansa gasps at the change of angle, and wraps her arms around his neck. He kisses her lips first, then her ears, down to her neck, all the while rocking against her. Sansa rocks with him, crying out as she begins to tighten around him.

Jon starts to reach under her shift to rub the spot that made her cry out earlier. She stops him, and his heart drops. She unwinds her arms from around his neck and pulls her shift over her head.

She smiles at him softly, fully naked now and wrapped up in his arms. Jon gazes at her breasts, scarred even worse than her arms. There’s a bite mark on the underside of her left breast, but he barely notices it. He’s entranced by her creamy skin, by her dusky nipples.

He bends his head and kisses her right breast gently, light kisses that make her flutter around him. She clenches down  _ hard  _ when he takes her nipple in his mouth.

Sansa writhes on top of him, clutching at his shoulders desperately. Jon starts to thrust again, and Sansa joins him, pressing herself flush with his body again and again, until she throws her head back with a silent cry.

Jon abandons her nipples to kiss her again, hot and wild and free. He tightens his arms around her and fucks into her hard until he lets out a long, low grunt. He fills her to the brim with his spend. They stay in that position, tangled in each other’s arms, kissing and trembling slightly, until Brienne knocks on the door and alerts them that Daenerys is looking for Jon.

They disengage reluctantly, and Jon cannot help but wonder at the difference just an hour makes. They dress again, and agree to try to couple once more before the battle if possible.

Jon pauses before leaving her chambers. Her turns back to face her, and kisses her deeply. “I never loved her, you know,” he says quietly. “I was trying to keep you safe by keeping her happy."

Sansa smiles at him softly. “You made the right decision, Jon. Then, and tonight. We’ll get through this together.”

“If we survive,” Jon adds ruefully.

Sansa looks at him with determination and that characteristic Stark stubbornness in her eyes.

“The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. We are a pack, we will survive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! I'll probably do reaction fics as the season continues, but we'll see. 
> 
> Say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/asongforjonsa) and [Tumblr](https://asongforjonsa.tumblr.com)!


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